


Photuris

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Prototype (Video Games)
Genre: AU, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Fight Sex, Gore, M/M, Shapeshifting, Tentacle Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 20:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30094377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: Alex goes hunting an easy mark, trying to keep thing subtle.  Unfortunately, he learns that he's not the only thing to have survived the battle aboard theReagan, and the Supreme Hunter's plans skew for more than simply killing Mercer.
Relationships: Robert Cross/Alex Mercer, Supreme Hunter/Alex Mercer (Prototype)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Teratophilia Trade 2021





	Photuris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/gifts).



It had been too long, playing things quietly. As far as he could tell, Blackwatch hadn’t realized the nuke hadn’t finished him off. So he had to hunt subtly. Rather than rush in, grab someone kicking and screaming, and consume them, he’d waited. Watched patterns. He’d been, as a marine, observing a group of Gentek scientists.

Hunting was all a matter of patience. Picking the right moment to strike.

Even if the wait was getting agonizing.

They lived clockwork lives. The scientists moved as a group—when off the clock they filed into smaller groups, headed for hotels repurposed as housing for people vital to the occupation. Except one. He’d always split up. Best he could tell, the man felt more or less safe. Military controlled the district, and ZEUS was allegedly dead—why need the buddy system?

That presented an opportunity. The group didn’t didn’t notice the marine following them, because when unobserved, he shifted guises. Just any other survivor—rather a series of them—milling about dead Manhattan. Took to the rooftops when his quarry, middle aged blonde man, split off from the rest. 

Followed the man as he went off the beaten trail—abandoned buildings a few blocks away from where the other scientists tended to hold up. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the man—some other Gentek scientist knew him vaguely—his target had actually lived in this neighborhood before the outbreak.

Explained why his quarry ducked under the caution tape—even if it were safer to be within the military cordon, at a converted hotel or warehouse, home was home.

He crept up the stairs, quietly as he could. He heard noise above him—hand tools, maybe. He reached a third-floor landing, and spotted an open door, light emanating from hit. Slowly he entered the room—lit by a battery-operated lantern. His target sat at a bench, working on something at a bench. Glassware, and bits of electronics sat on the table next to him.

As Alex loomed over his shoulder, he saw his prey, just---hammering a piece of wood. No nails, nothing but a hammer. A mirror was propped up in front of him.

His prey’s eyes’ shifted, reflected gaze meeting Alex’s.

And then he was flying through the entry doorway , cracking drywall on the opposite end of the hall. He was on his feet, hands shifting to claws. The scientist standing now, smiled. Black and red tentacles burst out, whirling about his quarry. Alex scowled. 

Apparently Blackwatch wasn’t the only thing that underestimated how survivable their enemies were.

The Supreme Hunter. Sentient cancer. Damn it.

He dug in his heels, preparing for the massive beast to tear through the doorway and attack. Instead, while it grew taller, it didn’t grow inhumanly so. Black hair with a strip of gray. Weathered features. Black fatigues. 

He shouldn’t have let it surprise him. Cross was dead, eaten by the Hunter. And even if he weren’t at this stage, the Blackwatch Captain was still his enemy—one whose interests had temporarily aligned with his.

Still, he had to drop his guard, like an idiot. 

Long enough for Cross to reach behind him, grabbing at something on the workbench. It hissed and crackled to life, bathing the Hunter in a bright glow--a makeshift taser. He rushed into the hallway. 

There wasn’t enough space to leap around and dodge as he would’ve liked. That cost him. The Hunter got in a few easy hits—hits Alex couldn’t afford to take. Not against this thing—it was easily as tough as he was, maybe more so. 

The Hunter moved with stolen skill—Cross’s practiced, expert moves that had been _such_ a fucking pain in the ass when they had fought, back when Cross was really Cross, matched with inhuman, monstrous durability of the Hunter. Alex got in some hits, things that _would’ve_ killed Cross. He was hurting it.

It was hurting him more.

They went _thorugh_ a wall, tile shattering as Alex smashed into the side of a shower. The Hunter rushed in, jabbed the taser against his side and held it there. Teeth rattled and biomass began to _smoke._ Forcing his limbs to obey him was getting difficult. A reflexive swipe embedded the middle claw of his right hand in Cross’s—the Hunter’s arm, between the radius and ulna. The burning, sparking tip of the taser left his side. 

Alex clamped his left hand over the Hunter’s and squeezed, until metal and plastic’s crumpled and the device went dead. The wind was knocked out of Alex, looking down he saw the hunter’s free hand had shifted into a blade and slid in, under his ribs. They glared at one another. And then Alex’s back left the splintered tile wall, his feet left the ground, and the two tumbled to the floor.

Something _cracked_ when the Hunter lifted Alex up and slammed him down again. Several things, most likely, some _inside_ Alex. But then they were falling through wood and wiring and drywall. It took him a moment to regain his bearings. 

A moment the Hunter didn’t need.

Straddling him, the Hunter pinned him down. Tendrils ran down, sliding across Alex’s body—finding purchase in lacerations that hadn’t _quite_ knitted together, digging into the still charred electrical burn at his side. When Alex threw his head back and howled, some slid down, forcing their way down inside his mouth, running along his tongue, against his gums.

He thrashed, rocked, flailed uncoordinatedly, while all the while the Hunter sat atop him, eyes closed meditatively. Pain was replaced by _emptiness_ , a feeling of being stretched thin. Alex’s struggles weakened, enough for the hunter to use one clawed hand to pin Alex’s arms against his chest. Shifting its weight, the Hunter got off him, kneeling to one side of Alex.

“You have no idea how long I’ve had to think about this.” The hunter finally said, Cross’s voice. He was breathing heavy.

Alex growled against the tentacles in his mouth. He couldn’t bite through them, and began gagging when one crawled in deeper.

That merited a chuckle. “Couldn’t resist the easy mark, eh? You have no idea how boring it was waiting for you to make your move.”

Fifteen minutes ago, when Alex was _finally_ getting ready to kill that one Gentek scientist, he probably would’ve expressed a similar sentiment. The hunter rambled on, Alex managing inarticulate profanities that didn’t interrupt. He wasn’t making it out of here—he’d walked into a trap and had been on the losing side of the fight as soon as it started.

What was it waiting for?

It had let him ramble on, back when it had first disguised itself as Cross, as he narrated the whole story—his version of it at least. Was this payback for that?

The Hunter grabbed the waistband of Alex’s jeans with its free hand and tugged. Denim—or biomass replicating it--frayed and shredded. It pulled imitation fabric out of the way. Alex craned his neck as best he could and observed. What the Hunter was doing to him was less concerning than what he was doing in response.

Normally, like his skin, whatever damaged happened to his clothes repaired itself. Denim, cotton, leather, Kevlar—it was all just biomass, would return to how it was supposed to be. But now, a massive gap, torn denim peeled off his crotch and thighs and bunched up around his lower leg, that didn’t repair itself.

He willed it to. 

It didn’t.

“Hm… too damaged, too low on food to fix it?” The Hunter asked, free hand pressing on Alex, right below his navel. Tentacles still wound in his flesh slid under his skin—that it did not _hurt_ was not reassuring. “Maybe I did something to you, am doing something to you… or maybe you’re interested to see where this is going.”

It punctuated its point by fondling Alex’s testicles.

He let out an indignant gurgling against the tentacles in his mouth as he felt the Hunter’s thumb run against his flaccid cock. What was the point of _this_? He understood the Hunter trying to kill him, consume him—that was something he was entirely able to comprehend. This… he had _memories_ of sex, but no particular drive for it.

What was it thinking?

The tentacles sliding down his legs, across his bare thighs weren’t unexpected. The Hunter stopped fondling Alex’s crotch, instead hooking under Alex’s knee and lifting, providing easier access. Thin, flexible limbs pushed inside—Alex momentarily tensed to deny them, before relaxing. He’d let the Hunter do this—it would keep it distracted and maybe he could think of a way to escape.

The hunter’s comment about how accommodating he was infuriated him.

These tentacles sliding inside him weren’t painful, but there was more than just the sensation of movement. They brushed against him, several just pushing inside, thickening as they moved deeper. Others didn’t probe deep, but pressed and fondled and explored.

He shuddered as he was stroked from the inside. It was pleasurable—the feeling was familiar, stolen memories of countless dead. Though, even when a victim of his had enjoyed receiving anal, they had felt anything _quite_ like this, multiple dexterous limbs exploring and fondling and pushing deep. The bead of precum that dribbled from the head of his cock down onto his belly was still a surprise. 

“You’re really getting into this.” The Hunter said, dropping Alex’s leg and stroking his cock, holding it upright. It shifted positions, leaning down. Face inches above Alex’s cock. Alex took a deep breath, half-rolled, and drove the point of his knee against the Hunter’s face. 

He was nowhere near recovered from the fight. And although he had the element of surprise and the hit did stun the Hunter, the best he managed to was to unbalance it. While it was still wound around and inside him. The Hunter sprawled atop him, grip on Alex’s arms tightening painfully, tentacles binding him tightening, tentacles inside him driving in painfully.

Teeth dug into the flesh of his thigh, tearing through easily. Alex struggled fultilely, tentacles in his throught forcing down painfully, cutting off his air. He tasted blood and the room spun. He went still, too drained to exert himself any more, and after a second, the Hunter relaxed, tentacles loosening. It tore a chunk out of him when it pulled its head back. It glared at him for a split second, before sighing. “Huh. And I thought you weren’t going to fight back.”

Alex gurgled in reply.

“Just lay back. I’m the one who will be doing all the work tonight.” The Hunter added sharply, before leaning down again. Mouth open. Alex stopped craning his neck as something warm and wet pressed against his cock, the tip of a tongue tracing a lazy circle in flesh before the Hunter engulfed him in his mouth.

Alex wished he could shut out the part of his mind that cross-referenced experiences, stolen from his victims. He did not need to be comparing this too hundreds of other experiences, comparing the sounds of gulping as the Hunter took his entire length in its mouth to others, rating the Hunter as _skilled_.

He didn’t last long, when the tentacles inside him went back to work, gently prodding at sensitive spaces they identified. He couldn’t stifle the inarticulate groan that raised in his throat after a particular _pressure_ inside him, coordinated with the Hunter suckling on his tip while its hand ran up his cock, caused him to explode. The Hunter leaned forward, taking him all in his mouth again, as it forced every last drop out of him.

The self satisfied smirk as it sat back, gently patting Alex’s flaccid cock, inspired him to utter something inarticulate. “Enjoy yourself? I think you should return the favor.”

When the Hunter repositioned them, moving between his legs and lifting them up, all Alex could do was glare. The sound of a zipper being pulled to mind too many stolen memories of sexual encounter. Alex glanced back down, and his eyes widened. The mass jutting out from the fatigue pants, the mimickry of Cross’s uniform was _not_ human. Something _slithered_.

“Like I said, I had plenty of time to plan this. Experiment with anatomy.”

Alex pinned underneath the Hunter attempted to move, thrash his hips, anything, as some tentacles—not all, but some—slid out of him to accommodate the cock. A tapered tip pushed against him, as tentacles looped around his hips, across his back and under his shoulders.

When the Hunter thrusted its hips, the tentacles dragged Alex, impaling him to the hilt with enough force to make him cough against the tentacles, which once again began creeping down his throat. The hunter, buried in him, shifted from kneeling to a crouch, lifting Alex’s hips up. Leaving Alex’s arms tangled in tentacles, clawed paws planted themselves on his shoulders, thumbs digging into the skin of his throat slightly.

And then it began thrusting. 

It’s pace was rapid, relentless, untiring. Alex, folded and bound and trapped underneath the Hunter, was too weak to break free as it drove in repeatedly, growling semi-coherent ravings as it did so. Sounds and scents of flesh on flesh called to mind encounters dissimilar to the squirming inside Alex. He was letting out muffled groans, muffled by tentacles and utterly drowned out by the Hunter. “Worth the wait.”

He had no idea how long it lasted, only the burning heat when the thing finally came, lifting him up and slamming him back down with an inhuman wail, as it swelled inside him and flooded him with cum. Alex groaned; eyes knit shut. The Hunter continued to drive inside, pace slowing as it softened and shrank inside him, finally pulling out and collapsing into a seated position. A hand—no longer clawed, thankfully, groped Alex’s cock as tentacles messily withdrew from him.

The fight and rape and the Hunter’s rapid withdrawal left Alex feeling empty, cum pooling around his hips. He tried to prop himself up on his elbows, only to be shoved down as the Hunter mounted him again. Cross’s face inches from his own. Alex set his jaw and glared at the Hunter, well aware of how utterly unintimidating he was to this thing at this moment.

The Hunter leaned in, lips against Alex’s neck, working up. He turned his head, and the Hunter bit into his cheek hard enough to drawn blood. Compared to everything else, it was easy enough for Alex to keep silent, wasn’t the worst he’d had this night. “Enjoy yourself?”

Alex remained silent. He had no response, and was trying to distract himself. Don't think about what just happened. Why the Hunter was satisfied in just fucking him. Why the Hunter was letting him live. There'd be time to reflect on that later. He needed to think of a plan, now.

The Hunter wasn't letting his silence go unanswered.

“We’ll have to do this again. Although next time, I don’t think I’ll be waiting around.” That was… Alex focused on next time. The Hunter was going to try that again—not something he wanted. But he’d gotten careless, treated this as an easy mark. He’d fallen for the Hunter before—when it first posed as Cross. Knowing the Hunter was out there, gunning for him again? He’d have to be ready.

That did not make thing any better when as the Hunter left him, limp and sore and naked from the waist down, it turned and said “See you soon.”


End file.
